Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40AN815K5S0ZTH2XS5B766

The bell above the bakery door gave a timid jingle as rain tapped at the windows. Cinnamon and warm butter softened the gray afternoon, though neither did much for the muddy boot prints leading straight to the display case. “Those weren’t there when I locked up last night.” “Perhaps someone came in early for a scone.” “Someone wearing size eleven boots and carrying pond water?” A tray of raspberry tarts rattled as the back door swung shut in the draft. On the counter, beside the cash register, lay a pale blue ribbon tied in a neat bow. “That ribbon was on Mayor Bellweather’s hat.” “Was?” “She wore it at the garden club luncheon. Then she accused Mrs. Pruitt of stealing her prize roses and stormed out.” “And now it’s in your bakery.” “Along with a boot print shaped rather like Mr. Pruitt’s left shoe.” The rain intensified, drumming against the awning. From the kitchen came the faint, irregular clink of a spoon against metal. “You do have a spoon in there, don’t you?” “Not one that stirs itself.” They stood very still. “I’ll get the rolling pin.” “For protection?” “For evidence. If someone has been sampling the dough, I want their fingerprints.”